Taima Hiden: The Stoner Chronicles Part One
Hakuna Matata If there was one thing Taima hated, it was worrying. It made his heart beat in a way he didn't like, make his spine tingle in a way that wasn't exactly painful but was definitely uncomfortable and put his stomach in knots. It was like his whole body was screaming "Danger, danger, DANGER!!!" at him over a giant loud speaker while bright red lights flashed all around. His therapist told him it was called anxiety, but he didn't like naming it. That just made it suck more. Why was he worrying? He was soon to be placed on a team. Now, Taima had a very sunny disposition. Always smiling, laughing and joking. But most of that was on account of the copious amounts of alcohol he consumed or marijuana he smoked on a day to day basis. He was really drowning all the dark feelings that wanted to creep up on him, pushing them deep down and ignoring them through a haze of inebriation. Taima was a freak. Not in the sense that he was a pariah, but in the sense of "was grown in a lab instead of born normally" kinda way. He wasn't even human, not fully. His cells were structured like that of a plant, but with humanoid DNA, making him a strange mixture of both. His blood was blue instead of red, he didn't really need to eat or breathe or sleep all that much, and his body processed toxins, like his beloved sake and mary jane, much more efficiently. He wouldn't think much of it, but it prompted looks. The ones that said the person was wary of him, that he was less than human and needed to be monitored carefully. His adoptive parents had tried to hide the looks when he first moved in with them all those years ago, but he saw them. They'd since stopped giving him those looks, once they really started to see him as their son, but everyone else in the village still threw them his way. Now, the looks weren't just because he was some strange creature but because he was a twelve year old with a heavy drinking and drug problem. Which was the reason for the therapy. But hey, at least they were looking at him strangely because he was a degenerate and not because they thought he might become unstable at any moment and go on a monstrous rampage through the village. But now he was getting a team. Three new people thrust into his life that will most likely prod about what he is and give him those looks again. It was filling him with that thing he didn't like to name, so he was distracting himself. And hey, if he was gonna day drink he might as well get some training out of it. The training field was empty, which was perfect because he didn't want to get yelled at for getting academy students drunk again. He pulled a blunt from his pocket and lit it with his lighter, taking a few deep lungfuls of smoke. He held it, savored the burn, and let it go in a long exhale. He stood there, smoking for a few moments before he felt the high set in. He stubbed out the smoke and shuffled over to a training dummy, pulling out his special sake gourd. It was meant for water, actually, and it was a gift from his father, but who drank water nowadays? "Sake is where it's at!" He startled himself with the outburst, looking around and shushing the empty space before he realized it was just him. It took him a moment to realize he was giggling uncontrollably, but when he did he calmed himself enough to down half the gourd in no time at all. The alcohol set in nicely, causing him to stumble on his feet a bit "I am soooo fucked up right now." He giggled loudly again, but this time was sobered by the dummy in front of him "What the *hic* f-fuck did you say to m- *hic* me?!" He placed his gourd at his belt and stumbled at the dummy, though in a flash he speed towards it. He struck out quickly, with almost inhuman accuracy at the thing. He didn't only focus on the one dummy, however, moving through the group of five that were situated in a semi-circle, striking each in turn and then moving back down the line for some more. He didn't know exactly how long it went on, but he did notice when he began to sober. His blood cleared itself of intoxicants much more quickly than other people, which was most of the reason for the volume of his drinking, but it also helped when he was using his fighting styles because Crunk Taima, as he liked to call himself in that state, never payed attention to how tired he was getting. His world came back into focus as he went from crossfaded to pleasantly buzzed. He pulled a flask of water from a pocket and took a long drought. Even though he preferred sake to water, he did have to concede that water was much better for hydration. He would've considered calling it a day, but he still felt the nervous energy humming through his person. So instead he launched into hand seals and charged the dummies again. Looked like today would be dedicated to training.